


Reunion

by CanonCannon



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bisexual Rick Grimes, Blow Jobs, Complicated Relationships, First Time, Gay Daryl Dixon, Hand Job, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Reunion, hello I'm a Desus writer in Rickyl land, just noticed I added "awkward sexual situations" twice, mostly-straight Rick, respectful to Richonne, they're in love though, which is on brand for me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanonCannon/pseuds/CanonCannon
Summary: “It’s not like that,” Rick says. He knows it sounds defensive.“It is.” She’s gentle but unyielding. He loves that about her. “For him, it is.”Rick can’t think of an answer, so he continues buttoning his shirt, not looking up.“I’m not telling you what to do, one way or another. I’m not trying to suggest, or… I just wanted you to know. Whatever you want, I’m ok with. Because you’re mine, but I think you’re his, too. Whatever that looks like for you two.”





	1. Chapter 1

Rick and Michonne have been in bed together for nearly two days before Aaron finally radios that he’s found Daryl. They’ll be back home by nightfall.

Michonne tells him just as he’s coming out of his third shower.

“He’s been looking for you. Or your body,” Michonne says, a searching look on her face. She’s holding RJ, and the sight makes his throat ache. “He never really came back in from the woods, after that.”

“For seven years?” Rick asks, hastily pulling on his jeans over his wet legs. He’d seen most of his family already–his surviving family–but it had taken time to find Daryl.

Daryl, god. He can’t wait.

“Yeah,” she says. “I stopped after the first.”

“That’s… that’s still a long time.”

“Rick,” she says. She’s trying to tell him something, but he’s distracted–her skin, her eyes. The muscles in her arms. Her smile, which has been radiant ever since he stumbled through the gates, _finally_ home after thinking of nothing else for years, now.

“ _Rick_ ,” she says again, because he’s staring, lost in thought.

“He’s… he’s Daryl,” Rick says. His loyal best friend. “God, I missed him. I missed him as much as I missed you.”

“I know you did. And he’s missed you, every day. That’s why I’m trying to say, whatever you two… whatever happens, whatever you need, I’m alright with it.”

“What?” Rick asks, distracted again, looking for his shirt.

“Rick,” she says, like he’s being intentionally obtuse, but he isn’t. He just doesn’t get what she means, what she thinks they’d need her approval to- _oh._

“It’s not like that,” he says. He knows it sounds defensive.

“It is.” She’s gentle but unyielding. He loves that about her. “For him, it is.”

Rick can’t think of an answer, so he continues buttoning his shirt, not looking up.

“I’m not telling you what to do, one way or another. I’m not trying to suggest, or… I just wanted you to know. Whatever _you_ want, I’m ok with. Because you’re mine, but I think you’re his, too. Whatever that looks like for you two.”

He nods, still not looking up.

Then their radio crackles to life–Aaron and Daryl are at the gates–and Rick kisses his wife and son’s forehead before rushing off.

–

He decides to wait in Daryl’s house–he has one here, where he spends the harsher parts of winter. It looks like it’s been empty for months.

Daryl appears at the door a moment later. His eyes look haunted. His hair is a little shorter, a little grayer, and he has a scar above his eye that wasn’t there before.

“Rick,” he breathes, like he doesn’t believe his eyes. They stand stupidly for a long minute, just taking each other in. Then Daryl takes an abortive step forward, like he’s seeking the closeness Rick desperately wants, but he stops himself. “I went to Michonne’s- to your place, her house. She said you were here.”

“I’m here,” Rick says. He knows his eyes are shining with tears.

“You been out there, though.” It’s almost accusatory. “This whole time.”

“I’ve been trying to get back, I swear. This whole- this whole time.” He’s struggling to form words. It’s just too much, seeing him again.

“I been looking,” Daryl mumbles, voice wavering, and Rick can see he’s a second away from falling apart. “Been looking, I’m sorry- I’m sorry I didn’t find you, shit, I’m- I’ve been-”

Rick strides forward, pulls him in. Daryl clutches at his back, face hidden in his neck. His shoulders start to heave.

“I didn’t stop trying to get back, Daryl. I didn’t stop.”

“I didn’t stop looking,” Daryl responds, pulling away enough to look Rick in the eyes. And Rick sees it, what Michonne had meant. He sees the devotion, the loyalty. Daryl would have spent the rest of his life looking for him.

Threading a hand through Daryl’s hair, Rick gently presses their lips together.

He’s not prepared for the response, though perhaps he should have been. Daryl moans brokenly into the simple kiss. He presses his whole body against Rick’s, arms circling hips and shoulders, pulling tight. Rick is adjusting to stubble rubbing his lips, but Daryl is already reeling into him, unrestrained.

It’s ok, though. Rick wants him close. He tightens his embrace, lets Daryl tip them back onto the couch. A tongue invades his mouth and he kisses back, just as fervent. Hips push frantically against his.

Daryl’s hard, _very_ hard. Rick isn’t.

He hooks a finger in Daryl’s belt loop and pulls his hips down, anyway.

He’s been desperate to see Daryl, to have him near. He’d missed him every damn day. Rick needed him, wanted him. Maybe not exactly like Daryl wanted, but he’s finding that it’s close enough.

Daryl can’t seem to get ahold of himself. He’s pressing Rick into the cushions with all his strength, holding him, kissing his neck, rubbing his dick against him. Rick feel himself begin to respond, which is- well. Neither here nor there.

When Daryl comes, he’s silent. He shakes with it, though, stormy eyes boring down into Rick’s.

Then he slides off the couch to his knees. Undoes Rick’s flies. Rick’s not soft, exactly, but he wishes… he wishes he could be exactly what Daryl needs just now. He can’t, it’s just not how he’s built, but he _wants_ to want.

Daryl takes him in his mouth, anyway. He moans like he’s grateful, like this is a privilege. Rick touches his hair and guides Daryl to suck him. Daryl’s fingers curl against his thighs, dirty nails scraping the denim. Every pull is deep. Rick feels his cock pressing into his friend’s throat, Daryl’s lips tight against him. His tongue flicks the underside, then the head. His eyes are closed in bliss.

It takes awhile, but when he does come, Rick doesn’t have to pretend it’s anyone but Daryl there with him. He looks full in his face, like Daryl had done minutes before, and shoots down his throat.

Daryl swallows it all and pulls off, resting his heavy head against Rick’s thigh.

It raises almost immediately, and Daryl says, aghast, “ _Rick_.”

“It’s alright,” Rick shushes, still dizzy and weak from that blowjob.

“No, Rick. No. Michonne- she’s-”

“She’s alright with this.” Rick couldn’t ever have imagined a relationship like theirs, but the brutality of their lives had a way of clarifying what mattered to them. Michonne loves him, and he loves her. They’d die for each other.

They’d also both die for Daryl.

“She- she knew what I’d need. Knew how much I’ve missed you, how I’d feel seeing you again.”

“What _you’d_ need,” Daryl repeats, slow.

Rick zips up, then holds out his hand and helps Daryl off his knees. They sit close on the couch.

“Missed the hell out of you, man,” Daryl says quietly.

“You, too,” Rick says. He stands on shaky legs. “Come have dinner. You’ve- you’ve met RJ, right?”

“Taught him to fish. He’s as loud as his daddy.” Daryl looks uncertain, eyes roving the room.

“Well, come on, then,” Rick says again. “I’ve been waiting a long time for a family dinner.”


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl is too overjoyed to overthink it at first. He follows Rick down the street, crossbow bouncing at his back, a disbelieving kind of joy radiating through him as he traces curls and bow legs and squared shoulders with his eyes. His heart is pounding--it has been since Aaron told him.

It’s seeing Michonne that hits it home for him.

He’d sucked Rick’s cock.

They’d barely laid eyes on each other, after seven years of believing Rick to be dead, and he’d just- he’d just-

“You staying for dinner?” Michonne asks him, brown eyes warm.

Daryl’s gut clenches. He nods.

_I sucked your husband’s cock, and I want to do it again._

“Go ahead and get washed up first.” Without letting him respond, she waves him into the bathroom. “Clean towels are under the sink.”

God, he probably smells like come. It’s drying in his pants. Jesus Christ.

Rick slides a hand around his wife’s waist, and Daryl feels sick with himself.

\--

As he scrubs his crotch in the warm water, he thinks about Rick saying ‘She’s alright with it.’ He replays that in his mind again and again, alternating with the memory of kissing Rick’s neck, just under his ear.

Then as he shampoos his hair, he thinks about Rick’s hand combing through it. It had been greasy, some mud caked near his neck.

Shit shit shit shit _shit_.

He’s going to throw up, or maybe faint--like a lady in an old chick flick, the kind Carol told him about watching before the turn.

He’s going to see Rick again.

Despite everything, Daryl smiles into the spray of the shower. Rick’s _alive_.

\--

RJ and Judith are at dinner. They try to chatter at him, but Daryl can’t look at them, or Michonne.

 _You only want to look at Rick anyhow, fairy_.

Rick, at least, looks happy. He can’t stop grinning around the table, complimenting Michonne on all of her improvements to Alexandria and asking Judith and RJ every question under the sun, bouncing around from topic to topic. He tries chattering at Daryl, too, but Daryl can’t find his voice even for Rick.

\--

“Want a drink?” Michonne asks after dinner. They’re alone; Rick is packing the kids off to bed. It’s a little heartbreaking to see how hesitant RJ is with his dad, but Rick’ll get him to warm up soon enough. Rick’s good like that.

Daryl’s instinct is to get the hell out of there, but Rick is right upstairs, alive, and he already knows he isn’t going to leave unless Michonne makes him. He sits across from her in the small office that's next to the dining room, takes the offered drink, and downs it in one go without tasting it.

“Daryl.”

The afterburn of liquor stings his throat. Her voice is coaxing but he still can’t look at her.

“You know what he did when he got here? After hugging me, after meeting his son? He tried to go right back out there to find _you_.”

Daryl feels like he’s drowning. “I’m sorry,” he says, not even sure for what.

“But everyone wanted to see him, talk to him. Maggie’s been around, and Carol. And I wasn’t ready to let him out of my sight, so I convinced him to let Aaron find you. But he’s been-” she pauses, clears her throat. “He wasn’t really home until you got here.”

Daryl feels a tear slide down his face. His thoughts are racing, and yet somehow his mind is blank.

“He already told me what happened.”

Daryl looks up at her sharply, then back down at the carpet again. There’s heat in his ears and all around his neck.

“I knew what it meant, when you kept looking for him. I'd never suspected before that, but when you wouldn't stop trying to find him... I knew. And I didn’t think either of us would ever get him back. So we don’t have to talk about it, but you shouldn’t feel like... with the way we live, the way the world is now...” She can’t seem to organize her thoughts, but she leans in and squeezes his knee. "I have to take the happiness I can get, for me and for my family. And _you’re_  family, Daryl. Your happiness isn’t going to take away from mine. I’m not going to be jealous of it.”

She isn’t lying, and he thinks, ashamed, of how many times _he’d_ been jealous. “You really think it could work like that?” he asks, finally meeting her eyes.

“How it works is gonna be up to you and Rick. I’m just saying that I’ll be ok, regardless.”

“You gotta tell me, if that changes,” he says, because he doesn't believe for a second this will last. She’s still in shock, husband back from the dead and all. She must be.

“I will,” Michonne replies simply. They hear Rick on the stairs, and she stands and stretches. “Stay the night, take some time with him. I’m going to get some sleep.”

Shaking, Daryl listens to her kiss Rick goodnight in the hall outside the door.

He doesn't know what to think, except that Rick is going to come through that door.

He's so fucking happy at the thought that he almost doesn't care about the rest of it, the dick sucking and neck kissing. Almost.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick is barely through the door when Daryl comes at him, closing it behind him and crowding him against it. He kisses him harshly, almost violently, with hands fisted painfully in Rick’s curls. Then in a flash he’s on his knees for the second time that day, deft fingers attacking the button of Rick’s jeans.

“Daryl. Daryl, wait- stop. We gotta- we gotta talk about this.”

And Daryl stops moving entirely, head bowed, kneeling in front of Rick like a knight before a king or a supplicant in front of an altar. His hands shake against Rick’s waist.

“Not anything bad,” Rick says, aching for him. He runs a finger gently along the line of his cheekbone. “Hey, you’re alright. We’re alright, just slow down a little.”

“What the hell are we doing?” Daryl asks, not looking up.

“Hell if I know. I’m making this up as I go along,” Rick says, trying to lighten the mood.

Instead Daryl’s shoulders go taut and he pushes himself to his feet, wiping his eyes furiously. Rick can almost see the walls going up as he puts distance between them, moving to the other side of the small room.

But there’s only one door, and Rick’s leaning against it.

“What? What did I say?”

Daryl takes a deep breath as if to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I just meant that I don’t exactly have a plan here. That's all.”

“It’s fine,” Daryl says, thumb going to the corner of his mouth. The familiar gesture is so endearing that Rick feels a surge of happiness entirely out of place with the mood in the room.

“Since when do you lie to me?”

To Rick’s surprise, _that_ gets a laugh. “I’ve done nothing but lie to you, until today when-” Daryl stops and swallows.

 _When you kissed me_ , he’d been about to say. Rick is sure of it.

“Daryl-”

“I’m fucking in love with you. I have been since- since the goddamn farm.”

They’re both silent for a moment. Daryl’s pacing, still looking desperate to escape, but Rick’s not moving from the doorway.

“That long?”

Daryl is facing away, but Rick can still see the small nod.

“You never lied about it,” Rick says gently, not knowing what else to say.

“It felt like a lie. But my point is… shit. I thought I was alright with this. But I can’t- I can’t have you winging it, sticking your dick in my mouth on occasion and then- I can’t fuck up what we had, what we are. I can't. So if you ain’t sure-”

—

“Daryl,” Rick interrupts him, and hearing his name in a voice he thought he’d never hear again breaks him, the tears falling over cheeks stained red with humiliation.

“Daryl,” Rick tries again. “Hey, Daryl.” A hand clasps his shoulder and Daryl goes willingly, weakly, easily into his arms.

“God, I’m so happy to see you again,” Rick says next, a non sequitur, but Daryl understands. He gets it, because he’s happy, too, even now. He’s ecstatic, over the goddamn moon… only he doesn’t know how they work anymore.

“You’re not gay,” he says, refusing to make a fool of himself by phrasing it as a question.

“No.”

He’d known, of course he’d known, but God, it still hurts. He pulls himself out of Rick's arms. “Right. So this was a fluke.”

“No.”

“ _Rick_.”

“Can we go downstairs? There’s a room in the basement. Michonne is trying to get some sleep next door.”

Daryl purses his lips, but he nods.

“Promise me you aren’t going to try to leave.”

“What?”

“Just… promise me, alright?”

“Yeah, whatever. I promise.” Christ, Daryl isn’t going anywhere. He’s allowed to stay the night—Michonne had said so—but if she hadn’t, he’d have probably snuck in and slept in front of their bedroom door like a dog.

Rick is here. Rick is alive. He’s right there, opening the door so they can go downstairs together to talk about why the fuck he let Daryl blow him.

Shit, maybe it doesn’t matter why. Maybe Daryl should shut the hell up and take whatever he can get.

Still teary-eyed, skin overheated, with the beginning of both a headache and an erection (thanks to remembering that blow job), he stands to follow. Because that’s them: Rick takes the lead so effortlessly, and Daryl follows him.

—

When they get downstairs Rick tries to catch Daryl’s eyes, but Daryl won’t let him, pretending to look at a dusty old cross-stitch on the wall that reads 'God Bless Our Home.'

Rick sighs, taking in the rigid line of his friend’s back. The silence at dinner, the panic upstairs, and now avoiding Rick’s eyes—like he’s done something wrong and is embarrassed about it. Ashamed, even.

Sighing again, Rick sits on the bed and pulls off his boots and socks, then unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off.

Daryl finally spins around, eyes wide, at the loud sound of Rick’s belt unbuckling in the silent room. Rick stands and tugs his pants down and off before he steps to Daryl and leads him, stumbling, to the bed. He kneels to take Daryl’s boots off.

The floor of the small bedroom is littered with clothes, and Daryl’s hard again, his dick a rigid line beneath his pants and tightly clasped hands. He’s simultaneously staring at Rick’s body and trying to avoid staring.

It’s true that this isn’t a situation Rick had ever expected to find himself in, but he doesn’t want to stop. Somewhere deep down, he likes knowing that he makes Daryl feel this way. And though he’s not aroused exactly, he thinks he could be—there’s _something_ deeply appealing about seeing Daryl like this. There’s something appealing about taking care of Daryl, too, and making him feel good.

He’s never been good at figuring out his own feelings. Lori had told him so all the time.

Unsurprisingly, Daryl stops him before he can reach for his belt.

“Rick,” he croaks, holding both his hands still, which means that he’d had to stop trying to hide his arousal. “It’s ok if it was just once.”

“Daryl.”

“Nah, man. It’s- it’s more’n I ever thought I’d- you’re here. That’s what matters to me, it means more than-”

“Daryl, I-”

“No, listen. I’m sorry for flipping out before. You can go up to Michonne, it’s fine. It’s all fine, seriously, cause I’ll see you in the morning.” He smiles as he says it, and there’s so much simple, plain love on his face. His eyes are bright as he tells Rick to go, clutching his hands in a death grip like he’ll never let him go again.

Rick fucking missed him.

It’s not difficult at all for Rick to lean down and rub his cheek against Daryl’s erection, because Rick would do literally anything for this man. This doesn’t even scratch the surface.

“Rick,” Daryl says on an exhalation. It comes out like he’s been punched, but that’s ok because he’s not saying no. When Rick unzips his pants and takes him in hand, he gasps as if in agony. He’s not wearing underwear, and Rick realizes that the come-stained pair are stuffed in his front pocket.

He hadn’t even touched Daryl before, really, just let him rub off against his thigh, yet Daryl’s response to it all had been so strong. Rick wants to see more, find out what else he can make Daryl feel.

“Let’s lay down,” Rick says, fondling but not stroking yet. Daryl seems to have completely short-circuited, so Rick gently pushes him flat, tugs his pants lower, and climbs into bed beside him.

“You’re not gay,” Daryl says again, breathing in ragged heaves.

“You are,” he responds, beginning to stroke. Daryl’s hips jerk against him helplessly.

“I don’t understand,” Daryl whines, like he’s pleading for mercy. “Why? Why’re you’re doing this, if you don’t-”

“I want to. Now hush.”

Daryl shivers and moans under his breath.

It’s not as fast as last time—Daryl’s well over forty. Rick watches, not sure what else to do besides stroking his dick. Eventually he leans in and kisses his neck, then his shoulder. He’s so strong, and his muscles tense as he writhes. There’s nothing feminine about him, but Rick is strangely entranced.

—

“We’re going to be fine,” Rick says into Daryl’s ear. It’s hard to pay attention to anything besides the way his calloused trigger finger feels dragging up and down Daryl’s cock. His bare chest, right there, and Daryl's allowed to look.

“What?” Daryl asks hazily, his legs spreading in spite of himself. He thinks he might be dreaming, because Rick’s other hand starts playing with his balls. “JesusfuckingChrist, Rick, you don’t have to-”

“Hush.” The corner of Rick’s mouth ticks up, and Daryl spreads his legs a little wider, on purpose this time—an invitation Rick either ignores or doesn’t notice. The waistband of his pants dig into his shins. “I haven’t been with a man before, but I… well. I like this, Daryl. I want you with me. We’ll figure the rest out.”

Fuck, he wants to kiss Rick again.

Rick kisses him instead, hard and confident like Daryl had always though Rick would kiss, and Daryl comes, gasping and panting into his mouth.

—

There’s an awkward moment, then, when Daryl tries to reciprocate and Rick has to stop him.

“I think I’m good for the night. We- there was you, and before that Michonne, and…”

“Right,” Daryl grunts, yanking his hand away as if burned.

“Stop that,” Rick says, though his tone is soothing. “I’m middle-aged, that’s all.” He pulls Daryl towards him again and holds him like he had Michonne two nights ago, tight against his chest. Michonne had stayed rigid, tense with joy, checking behind her every few moments in disbelief that it was really him.

Daryl, though, relaxes against him immediately, the strength seeming to run out of his frame.

“I want you to move in again. Live here, like you used to.”

“Ok.”

“What? That easy?” Rick smiles at him. “Nothing is that easy with you.”

“Think I’m probably going anywhere you go, and staying anywhere you stay.” Daryl says, and Rick wonders if maybe it’s easier for him to talk like this, facing away. “For awhile at least. If that’s alright with you and, uh, Michonne.”

“That how I want it,” Rick said quickly. He kisses Daryl’s shoulder again, still fascinated, then his neck.

“You’re gonna get me started all over again,” Daryl warns.

“Alright, alright. Let's get some sleep.”

—

Except Daryl feels like he’ll never sleep again.

He’s covered in his own come for the second time that day, and Rick is spooned up behind him. He’d felt Rick’s partial erection against his ass earlier—afterwards—and it had saved him one reason for a sleepless night, at least. Rick hadn’t been entirely unaffected.

Daryl’s not greedy. Rick will always prefer women, always prefer Michonne. That’s fine, because this is more than Daryl ever expected life to give him: Rick Grimes laying beside him, holding him close.

He wants to stay like this forever… right after he has a cigarette.

Carefully extricating himself from under Rick’s arm, Daryl strips off his shirt and walks carefully upstairs. He doesn’t expect to see anyone, but he doesn’t want to be wearing a filthy, come-spattered shirt on the off chance that RJ or Judy wakes up.

He’s glad of it a moment later, because Michonne joins him on the porch before he’s even lit up.

“Can’t sleep?”

Daryl nods, not looking at her.

“I know how you feel. The first night he got back, I dreamed about the explosion at the bridge.” She sits next to him, and Daryl feels naked wearing just his pants beside her, his bare chest warm in the cool air. “I’m too happy to sleep, anyway.”

“Me, too,” Daryl says.

They sit in silence for awhile, Daryl smoking and Michonne looking up at the stars.

“He, uh, asked me to move in,” Daryl says eventually.

“Good.”

Daryl looks at her, eyes narrowed.

“ _Good_ ,” she says again, and takes his hand. They sit like that for a few minutes until Michonne stands. “Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night, Michonne.” Daryl stands, too. If he’s going to be awake anyway, he wants to be somewhere he can listen to Rick, alive and breathing. Flicking away the butt of his cigarette, he follows Michonne into the house--their house.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people had asked for a continuation of this world and it's nice to write for a ship where the characters are, y'know, alive, so I'm adding a bit to this :)

He wakes up to the sound of her voice.

“Sorry, but... you said you wanted to go fishing with me and RJ,” Michonne whispers into the darkness.

“It’s alright, I’ll get up.” Rick’s tired voice makes Daryl freeze, adrenaline jolting him fully awake. “I’ll get up.”

They’re in bed together. He’s laying in bed with Rick, and Michonne is there, and Rick—fuck, Daryl is wearing jeans, but _Rick_.

Her husband is in his skivvies, in bed with another man.

Daryl keeps his breath even and deep, a skill gained from years of pretending to sleep through his father’s drunken rages.

_She’s ok with it. She said so just last night._

Doesn’t mean she wants to see it, though.

“How are you?” Christ, she isn’t leaving.

“I’m... good.” Rick shifts in the bed beside him, and shit, Daryl thinks he’s looking for his clothes. Fuck. He wants to curl into a ball and die. “Sorry, I’m not trying to... this is going to take some getting used to, is all.”

“I know. For me, too.”

“You can change your mind,” Rick says quickly. “I’m with _you_ , Michonne, you’re the-”

The pain in Daryl’s chest surprises him only by its intensity.

“I’m not changing my mind. I’m just... adjusting. We’ll all adjust. It’s not as awkward I thought it might be, actually.”

“Mmm.” The mattress jostles him a little as Rick stands up. “Can’t say the same.”

 _Then why are you doing this?_ Daryl screams at him mentally, but he doesn’t move a muscle, breath perfectly even and body limp.

“Think he’s doing ok?”

They leave the room, and Daryl can’t hear Rick’s answer.

—

Daryl stays completely still until he hears them leave the house.

By then he’s set himself some ground rules, because if he’s not careful, if he fucks this up, he could lose two of the most important people in his life. _No, four_ —and the thought of never seeing Judith again makes him double down on his resolve to walk the line.

First rule: he won’t initiate. If Rick makes a move, maybe some night when Michonne ain’t in the mood—that’s more common with women, he’s pretty sure—then God, he’s do anything Rick wants him to. But Daryl won’t ever touch him first.

Secondly, he’ll give them space. He’ll stay out of the house most days, and only take Rick’s time when he hasn’t got anything else on.

And finally, when it’s obvious Michonne has had enough, he’ll agree to move out without a fight, like it’s not a big deal—like Rick Grimes kissing him after seven years of mourning him hadn’t been the happiest moment of his whole goddamn life.

—

He stays in bed for awhile just trying to get him mind around things. He’s never felt awkward in this house before; he used to come and go as he pleased.

Aaron’s the only one there when Daryl finally sacks up and goes upstairs. “Hey! I wasn’t sure if you slept over. I’m on babysitter duty, Judith and Gracie are upstairs.”

“Mhm,” Daryl grunts, digging around in the cupboards for something to eat. He pulls down some dried apple slices and the tasteless corn cakes Hilltop’s been making recently.

“Actually, uh, since you’re here. If you don’t mind... I mean, if you’re sticking around for the day, I, well...”

“Jesus in town, huh?”

Aaron flushes. “He got in late last night.”

“Get,” Daryl shoes him away. “Tell him he still owes me a rabbit, little shit stole one of mine from a trap.”

“He swears he didn’t-“

Daryl gives him a look.

“Ok, yeah. He probably did.”

“Mmhmm. See ya later,” Daryl says, waving him off again.

“Gracie! I’m heading out, but Uncle Daryl is here, ok?”

Two blonde heads poke out over the top of the bannister. “Uncle Daryl! Want to play monopoly with us?” Judith asks.

“Sure, set it up. Fair warning, though... I’ll kick your ass, lil asskicker.”

Actually, she mercilessly kicks _his_ ass while he does his best to explain hotels and electric companies.

“Why didn’t people just build windmills, though?” Gracie asks. “And sleep outside?” As always with the younger ones, Daryl can’t explain it to her. The world before was just too different for them to understand.

Still, they have fun. It feels normal, and Daryl needs a little normal just now.

They’ve only been playing for half an hour when Daryl’s neck prickles and he spins to find Rick watching them from the doorway, a soft look on his face. He has a dozen fish strung up on a line dangling from one hand.

He looks happy, healthy, and God, he’s there, right in front of him. After seven years.

It’s too goddamn much. Daryl wants to kiss him.

“Daryl, could I talk to you for a second?”

“Only a second,” Judy answers for him. “It’s almost his turn.”

“Almost my turn to lose more money,” Daryl says ruefully, with a half smile at Rick as he gets up.

He steps outinto the hall... and then Rick kisses _him_. On the mouth, too—he’d never have done that before.

It’s not like Daryl would’ve done it, though. Rick is gentle, and it only lasts a second.

Daryl’s mind sinks right into the gutter, anyway. “What was that for?” he asks.

“I’m just... happy,” Rick says. “I’m happy you’re here, I’m happy you’re staying.”

“I’m happy, too,” Daryl says, like he’s admitting something. Then, gruffly, “You even have something to tell me?”

“Nope.”

Daryl squints at him.

“What? You know I’m a sap.”

Whatever the hell Daryl’s doing here, he hadn’t thought it would include kisses in the middle of the day with Rick’s whole family around.

“Go gut those fish, sap,” Daryl says. Then he returns to the game and starts losing even worse than before.

—

The next couple weeks go as planned, for the most part.

Michonne doesn’t seem bothered by his presence in the house at all, but he mostly tries to stay out of her way. He’s careful to bring home game every few days and helps keep the place clean. He begins helping out in Alexandria’s fields when he’s not hunting and lets Rosita know he’s available for watch duty.

Rick is more physically affectionate than before, maybe, but they don’t sleep together again.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the whole "Yeah I'm just a bro looking for my missing bro for SIX WHOLE YEARS, no homo" thing the show has going right now.


End file.
